CHAPTER THIRTY CECI
Chapter Thirty
Ceci
Ceci stood in the guest bedroom, gazing out the window. It overlooked the terrace at the back of the house.
“So you’ve walked right into the lion’s den,” Aunt Delilah said over the phone. “Pun intended. Get it? Lion as in Leo.”
Ceci rolled her eyes. “I get it. How did you know I was here?”
“I would have thought by now, Cecilia, you’d have given up trying to hide things from me. Accept defeat, already. Just tell me your decision to go to this shindig has nothing to do with the fact that your father likes the idea of Sir Leo Clarke.”
Ceci swallowed. “Look, it’s good with Dad now.”
“Good?”
Ceci sighed. “Well, as good as it’s ever been.” Probably as good as it will ever get. “He’s showing an interest in my racing.”
“Is that what he’s doing?”
“What’s with the questions?”
“What’s with the dumb blonde act?”
“Do you know he invited me to his house on the Cape for Thanksgiving and Christmas?”
“You mean, he invited you and Sir Clarke. What do you think will happen when this fake dating arrangement is over?” Aunt Delilah paused. “It is still fake, isn’t it? Or has something changed?”
“Nothing’s changed.” Ceci swallowed. “Why would you even ask that?”
“This transformation on your father’s part only came about once Clarke was in the picture.
So, I just want you to tread carefully when it comes to your feelings.
I think it’s reasonable to wonder what will happen when that’s no longer the case.
Then again, there is evidence to suggest things might continue with the two of you even after the season ends.
After all, he did go to your father’s. And that wasn’t part of the deal.
Not only that, but he put on quite the show for Hank. That suggests he cares about you.”
“He didn’t put on that show for Father, it was for Tilney. He only came up to kiss me when Tilney had his arm around me.”
“Maybe he was jealous.”
“No, that had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with Tilney. Those two obviously have a history. I told you what happened when we went karting.”
“So if Clarke didn’t do any of that for you, why are you there?”
“Well, he did kind of make things better with Dad. Even if he was only thinking of himself when he did it. So I just thought, I could do this for him. It’s purely transactional. And being here makes sense, given the arrangement and all.”
“Right. The arrangement.”
Ceci could hear what her aunt was thinking, probably because she was thinking it as well.
The arrangement, which would end after the last race in Suzuka.
Ceci walked down the grand staircase and paused at the foot of the stairs, before venturing down a hallway she thought would lead her back to the drawing room.
“Ceci?” a voice said.
She turned around and saw a man standing in the doorway of one of the rooms she’d passed.
“I’m Leo’s father.”
She could see the resemblance.
He invited her to join him in the library.
They sat in opposite armchairs and were silent, the only sound coming from the tapping of his foot on the wood floor.
Her heart was racing. Just get it over with already.
“Should we just get it out of the way?” Ceci blurted.
“What’s that?”
“You know. The thing every cloud has a lining of and …”
He grinned. “The thing you shouldn’t leave unturned.”
She chuckled. “Yes. That thing.”
He sighed. “Silverstone.”
She wanted to be the first to speak. She needed to be the first to speak.
“I am sorry about it. I wish it didn’t happen.
No one wants to win a race that way. We thought Anker had room to pass.
He obviously thought so. He’s an aggressive driver.
Sometimes that’s a good thing and sometimes it’s not.
But for that to happen in the last race of the season, and in England no less … ”
He nodded. “It was a tough loss. But if you put it up against the rest of my son’s Formula 1 experience, even taking into account the last few years, he can’t complain.
I certainly can’t. And if we’re going to be honest with each other, I have to admit, Anker reminds me of Leo when he first started driving.
” He paused. “He’s not that driver anymore.
Not that he should be. Everyone changes.
Or should. If you don’t, you’re not living. ”
He peered at her. It should have made her uncomfortable, but it didn’t.
Odd.
“I think the fact that you’re here is a sign of that. At least I’m hoping it is. Leo’s never brought a woman to the Grouse Gathering.”
Ceci felt her cheeks burn.
But he didn’t bring me. He didn’t even invite me.
He sighed, staring at the books lining the walls as if speaking to them.
“Athos always brings the same woman. Lovely woman, makes a great impression. But there’s nothing there.
That makes her safe. Sometimes I think Athos would have made a great monk.
Porthos, on the other hand, is like a kid in a candy store.
Always a different woman. You’d think she was the love of his life.
But it never lasts. And then there’s Aramis.
He can’t reconcile his heart and mind. If he brings only one woman to this thing, that’s surprising.
Usually he invites at least two, sometimes even three.
I suppose that makes him a kind of playboy.
But truth is, he’s really too much of a romantic.
Leo is too. But Leo is different.” He paused, lowering his head.
“I don’t know if you know … he was only twelve when his mother died, and this was really her event. ”
Ceci felt uneasy. Had she made a mistake coming here?
She cleared her throat. “Why Leo? He told me his mother named him.”
He smiled. “She did. She said when she looked at him, she saw a lion. So, Leo. And when he got older, she said he’d proven her right. The name fit him. I think most people assume she meant he was brave. And don’t get me wrong, he is. But she meant something else.”
“He’s got a big heart,” Ceci said. “He’s lionhearted.”
She blinked, surprised at the sound of her own voice. She’d had the thought, but she hadn’t meant to say it aloud.
He smiled. “You see it too. Because I think his manner sometimes can be deceiving. I don’t think people see that.”
Ceci thought about the way he was with Holly, how serious he was designing that kart after having seen how badly Ceci wanted to win the Pawsome race, how he came to her father’s, took her karting, what he told her about Naomi and Niles.
And suddenly she realized why he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve.
Not because he was unfeeling, but because his heart was just too big.
Leo’s father stood up. “Will you take a walk with me?”
They went outside and soon were strolling through a lush and fragrant meadow.
There was color everywhere, the field blooming with bluebells, cowslips, red campion, and buttercups.
Ceci inhaled the sweet and heady fragrance laced with honey, orange blossoms, and a pinch of something woodsy and spicy like clove.
“Leo always stood out,” he said. “Even as a kid. He never really fit in his surroundings. Not because he was out of place, but because he was out of time. Still is. I think he comes across old-fashioned sometimes.”
Laughing, she nodded.
He sighed. “He has a penchant, some might even call it a weakness, for jumping in or intervening whenever he thinks a woman’s been insulted or might be harmed in any way.”
Up ahead were some tall trees and what looked to her like woodlands. When they reached the trees, they veered left. The path narrowed and the trees gathered around them.
“I think it’s because he couldn’t save his mother.
Of course, to some people that might sound ridiculous.
She had cancer. It’d gone too far and there was nothing anyone could do.
But while his brothers and I felt bad about that, we understood it, and accepted it.
Leo never did. I think he thinks he failed her, and he carries that with him.
He couldn’t save his mother so he feels he has to save the women he can, any woman who ventures onto his path. ”
Suddenly, Ceci stopped.
“It’s striking, isn’t it?” he said, smiling.
Just up ahead was a field awash in a soft and stunning blue.
“Forget-me-nots?” she asked.
“They were his mother’s favorite flower.”
Ceci thought of that scarf Clarke had bought her in Montana. There were forget-me-nots on it.
He crooked his arm, inviting her to take it. “Come on.”
When they arrived at the field, Ceci stared in wonder. There were forget-me-nots as far as her eye could see.
“Leo planted them.”
She gaped. “All of them?”
He nodded.
“By himself?”
“The gardener offered to help. But he wouldn’t have it. He went out there with a garden fork, a rake and a small trowel. He wanted to finish before she died. He did.”
He took hold of Ceci’s arm with one hand and pointed with the other. “Do you see that?”
Up ahead in the distance was a headstone surrounded by a sea of blue.
“That’s where his mother’s buried.” He sighed.
“When she was dying, I knew I would have to be both mother and father to my boys, because I knew I would never remarry. And Leo being the youngest … maybe I’ve been too present, too persistent.
I think sometimes I suffocate him. Especially the past few years.
I’ve been hard on him, not in a negative way—not criticizing him but just pushing, always pushing. ”
“I don’t think you need to push him. I think he pushes himself. And you definitely don’t need to be hard on him, he’s hard enough on himself.”
“That’s what his mother always said; she reminded me of it just before she died.”
As he gazed out at the field, Ceci wondered if he would prefer to be alone. Then suddenly he turned, and while he blinked, seemingly surprised to see her, it didn’t look like her presence bothered him. In fact, she had a feeling he welcomed it.
“Do you think,” he swallowed, “it’s possible for a father to love his child too much?”
If it were, I wouldn’t know what it was like.
When they returned to the house, they met Athos on the terrace.
Clarke’s father smiled, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”
“He likes you,” Athos said once his father was gone. “I like you too. I didn’t want to. I intended not to. But fuck it, you’ve made that impossible to do.”
Smiling, she laughed. She felt happy. Why did it matter to her that his father and brother liked her? She didn’t have an answer. She only knew that it did.
“And how did I manage that?”
“By knowing racing. Being good at what you do. And being real—not bullshitting.” He paused. “And by being good for my brother.”
Good for Clarke?
She swallowed. “You know … this thing … we’re doing.” She paused, drawing a breath. “It’s not really—”
“Real. Yeah. So I hear. Do you want a drink? I mean a real drink. Not some cocktail made with Jamaican okra and Namibian prickly pear fruit.”
She laughed. “Okay.”
“Bourbon?”
She grinned. “You know, I didn’t want to like you either. But fuck it, you’ve made that impossible to do.”